


Emotional Distancing

by lunalius



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Also a green card marriage au?, Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Coronavirus AU, Domestic Fluff, Genuinely do not know how to tag this, How Do I Tag This, I really thought there would be tags, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Mild instance of medical anxiety, Pandemics, Someone help Kun, What's the green card trope even called, quarantine au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunalius/pseuds/lunalius
Summary: A global pandemic puts a dent in Kun's Green Card plans, but not in the way he expected.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Comments: 69
Kudos: 331





	Emotional Distancing

**Author's Note:**

> This is the johnkun quarantine fic that no one, myself included, asked for.
> 
> If the premise of the green card sounds familiar, it's because I submitted it as a prompt for the Johnkun fic fest! I kind of wish I'd claimed it myself, but the prompt was dropped by whoever claimed it and at the time of writing this, it hasn't been taken again so... 🙂.
> 
> This was written in 20 hours from start to finish in lieu of completing a take-home exam. I hope you think this fic is worth the anxiety I am currently experiencing.

And just like that, Kun was married.

There was no pomp, no ceremony; just him in an office cubicle, signing a piece of paper that his now husband had signed, and two legal witnesses, both of whom Kun was meeting for the first time.

“Congratulations,” the celebrant — Baekhyun? Kun had already forgotten his name — said. “You’re hitched!”

Kun felt Johnny’s big hand cover his and lift it into the air with a “yay!”, and so do the witnesses (again, both strangers), and so does the celebrant.

Kun didn’t know what was worth yay-ing about. He hadn’t even got his Green Card yet, which was the whole point.

Americans were weird.

* * *

Kun didn’t mind that his I-130 would take ages to approve, because his living situation was ideal. He spent most of his day at the university or the restaurant, Johnny spent most of his day at the law firm, and they spent their weekends doing their own thing unless Johnny’s parents called in, in which case he would pretend to be extremely in love but extremely busy for two minutes. He and Johnny were more like roommates than anything else, and Johnny was the least problematic roommate he’d ever had, so he was okay with waiting.

He didn’t count on a global pandemic sending them both into quarantine.

“Thank you so much for doing this for me,” Kun huffed as soon as he slid into shotgun in Johnny’s car. He nudged his mask down to his chin and shifted his legs around until he found the least painful way to support the huge monitor and other accessories he was holding.

“Any time. Y’know, you can just keep those in the back if you want.”

Kun looked over his shoulder to see Johnny’s backseat filled with stack after stack of papers, binders, manila folders, and an entire PC. “No, no! This is fine.”

Johnny’s one eyebrow inches upwards, a tick Kun has noted every time Kun graciously rejects any act of kindness, as he was taught to do by his family. (Yes, he was aware of it. That didn’t mean he was going to stop.) “Alrighty then. Need to stop anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Straight home, then.”

Johnny played the kind of music that made Kun want to look out the car window and pretend he was in a movie. He supposed this moment in his life would make a fantastic opening to a movie, but Kun wasn’t comforted by the thought of his life undergoing movie-levels of turbulence, so he pretended he was someone else. Someone at the end of their story, heading off towards their happy ending. Preferably one involving a stable career and a pet.

“It’s gonna be weird, huh?” Johnny’s voice cut in, tearing his fantasy to shreds. “Working from home?”

Kun hummed. “Yeah. Weird. But temporary.”

Temporary, he repeated in his head. And not likely to affect the applications he’d submitted.

And Johnny still had work to do, Kun still had work to do, so nothing would change, probably. Kun could hole himself up in his room just like he holed himself up in his corner of the PhD office.

This was just a slight detour from his plans. Right?

* * *

So things were a little more different than Kun had expected.

For one, the discipline that Kun had had drilled into every fibre of his being, by his parents, by teachers, by himself, was most likely dissolving. (He didn’t want to admit that it was actually dissolving, because that would make it true.) With Johnny’s help, he’d set his bedroom up like his office at work, with his bed in the corner, separated by a shower curtain (Johnny’s idea), but it wasn’t the same. Kun had always been warned about working and sleeping in the same space, but it never quite hit him how much of a bad idea it was until then. He had so much more time, and it was so, _so_ easy to just nap.

Second, Kun didn’t have a job anymore. Waitering wasn’t considered essential work, and he didn’t have a car or a bike to do deliveries so he was “let go for now”. It’s not like they were paying him what they were supposed to anyway, but more money was better than less money.

Thirdly, he saw Johnny more often.

Here’s the thing — Kun knew Johnny was an attractive man. He’d be stupid not to acknowledge it. He’d have been lying if he said Johnny’s looks didn’t play a role in their agreement. Part of the reason Kun wanted to haul his entire life to America at all was because he was gay, and first impressions of Johnny just drove that point home.

But Kun didn’t allow himself any further introspection on this. Johnny being hot and nice wasn’t as important as Johnny being, objectively, his best prospect of getting a Green Card. Johnny needed Kun mainly so his parents would stop bugging him about getting married. It was literally a marriage of convenience, and it needed to continue to be convenient. Anything less than professional, in Kun’s opinion, would be inconvenient.

One time he bumped into Johnny walking out of the bathroom in only a towel. Johnny offered a hurried apology before he slipped out of view. His voice had been so high, so timid.

Very inconvenient.

Kun was kind-of-sort-of awake when Johnny knocked on his door, twice, firmly, but he decided it was best to pretend he wasn’t. It was past noon and they hadn’t turned the heating on, so Kun could hear Johnny’s quiet sigh break the deathly silence of their apartment. He’d fell asleep on top of his blanket and was too lazy to get under it; he turned on his stomach and buried his face in his arms.

The door creaked open. Footsteps, the shower curtain being pulled open, then a pause. There was a clank of something ceramic placed on his bedside table, then footsteps moving away.

Johnny didn’t close the door when he left the room. Kun felt the hairs on his arms stand on edge.

A few minutes later, Johnny had returned, and something warm and heavy was draped over Kun’s back, and he had to look up because — “What?”

Johnny stood hunched over his bedside like a child caught drinking from the New Year wine. (Kun knew the feeling well.) “Uh, you looked cold, so…”

Kun looked down at the blanket over his body. He thought he might have seen it lying on Johnny’s bed. His eyes drifted to his side table to find an Illinois U mug of something steaming hot where there used to be nothing.

“I made you coffee because I was making myself some as well, but you were asleep and…” Johnny tugged at his ear — another one of his many ticks. Kun hadn’t figured out what this one meant yet. “Sorry. I should’ve just left it in the kitchen.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you.” Bringing food and drink to each other’s bedroom wasn’t uncommon, so Kun wasn’t sure what Johnny had to apologise for. “I don’t want to burden you, but can you bring the—”

“I’ve put the sweetener in already.” Johnny gave him a small smile. “And it’s soy milk. I’ve made you coffee enough times to know how you like it.”

God. “Right. Thank you. For that and the blanket.”

Kun didn’t notice how tight Johnny was holding his shoulders until he relaxed them. “Any time.”

Kun stayed in bed and pulled the blanket higher around him while Johnny trudged towards his door. The faint smell of coffee and Johnny’s Axe body spray hit him almost instantly; Kun only knew the smell of that vile thing because the bathroom reeked of it every morning.

It occurred to him that Johnny might need this back at some point. But for now, his brain had too many thoughts, and he needed to sleep them away.

* * *

“I don’t think you’re going to use that more than once.”

Johnny looked like he’d received his one new toy a year (Kun knew the feeling well) as he smiled over his brand new bread maker, putting it in the corner the toaster was supposed to go in the morning. (Read: not the right place.) “I will! I love homemade bread.”

“Yeah, but do you like _making_ homemade bread?”

“Only one way to find out, right?”

“Johnny, you tried making bread last week and it completely backfired on you.”

“Yeah, but that was by hand! This is different.”

Kun had nothing to do as he waited for the kettle to boil, so he settled on watching Johnny study the manual. Johnny’s lips moved as he read through it, and every once in a while he’d mumble the instructions aloud as he set up the machine. Kun suppressed a sigh when Johnny opened their small pantry to pull out the bread flour and yeast that they definitely did not have room for amongst all their other quarantine groceries.

The kettle’s hissing started getting higher and more shrill. Kun flicked it off and shuffled past Johnny to bring out his own quarantine contribution to the pantry, a tin of jasmine tea, and got to work stuffing tea leaves into two tiny bamboo strainers, strainers in mugs, mugs full of almost boiling water, bowls to cover them up. Then he waited.

Johnny was carefully measuring out yeast — ‘ACTIVE DRY yeast not any other kind of yeast’ said the shopping list Johnny had given Kun a week ago — in a teaspoon, one eye shut, tongue peeking out through his lips. Kun waited till the (active dry) yeast was in the machine till he spoke. “I still think it’s a waste of money.”

Johnny snapped the lid shut. “I can afford it.”

Kun felt his entire chest cave in, and all the breath leave his body with it. He could make out Johnny looking his way, but he didn’t have the heart to reciprocate.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? Johnny could afford it, because most of the finances came from him now. Not working 20 hours a week doing manual labour had its perks, but Kun felt guilty for enjoying them. It was harder since they joined their bank accounts, since all their earnings were merged into one and Kun couldn’t even distinguish who was paying for what they way they used to when they started living together, and he just…

…He just felt like shit.

“ _We_ can afford it,” Johnny said quickly. Kun felt his presence hovering right at the edge of what Kun would call friendly distance. “Kun. What’s mine is yours, now.”

“Yeah.” That didn’t make Kun feel any better. He pushed one of the mugs to the side. “This one’s yours. I think I’ll turn in.”

“Kun—”

“Good night!”

“…Good night.”

Needless to say, Kun couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep most days, because his afternoon naps had become five-hour siestas, but this was a different kind of sleeplessness — nervous, jittery, restless. Kun tried at first to focus on the assignments he had to grade, then on the thesis he was supposed to be writing, but he finally settled on five different tabs of job searches.

It was still dark when he heard a faint beeping from the kitchen. Figuring there were only so many grocery store sales assistant postings he could choose not to apply for, Kun got out of his chair, slipped into some socks and slid out towards the kitchen, feeling his way through the living room until he finally found the kitchen light. The usual time taken to blink away the temporary blindness was cut short when a grunt sounded from the sofa. Kun froze, hand reaching straight for the knife drawer, when Johnny rose from the couch much like a mummy come to life, eyes still closed.

“Hmm?”

“It’s me.” Kun slowly drew his hand back to his chest. “Were you sleeping on the couch?”

Johnny rubbed his eyes open. His face sported an early morning shadow, and his hair made funny shapes around his head. Kun suddenly realised that he had never seen Johnny so soon after he woke up. “Yeah.”

“…Why?”

Johnny pulled cheeks down and eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. “My room is kind of cramped, so I just… yeah. This is more comfortable.”

Their couch was not comfortable even to sit on. Kun had bought it second hand, and the fluff had burst out one of the corners two weeks in.

Kun remembered thinking, when Johnny had set up his working-from-home space, that his room could _not_ be comfortable to sleep in. It was tiny to start with, considering it was designed to be a study and not a bedroom, but now that Johnny was using it as an actual study, and he’d seen folders and clothes dumped on the bed whenever he went in to deliver food or drink…

“You can just sleep in my bed,” Kun blurted with his stupid, over-eager mouth.

Johnny didn’t seem so asleep now. Kun didn’t blame him. “In… your bed?”

“Uh.” Shit. “You’re too big for that couch, and my bed is, you know, a double. So it’ll be better. It’s just practical. Also I don’t sleep at night, so it’ll be like having your own bed—” Johnny’s eyes looked black as night and bore right into his cranium. “Forget it. Just get a bed for the living room, then. Or something. You’ll hurt your back. What do you do with this bread thing? I heard it beeping and I thought…” Johnny did not stop staring, that bastard. “Do you have to do something? Is it done?”

“Leave it in for a few hours.” Johnny’s normally loud voice was softer. Gentler.

“Okay. I’m heading back in then. Sleep well. Or, as well as you can on that couch.” Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ —

“Did you suggest it because you feel like you have to pay me back?”

Such a direct question. Kun did not like direct questions at five in the morning. “What do you mean?”

Silence. Painful, painful silence.

Kun relented. “The university pay was fine when I was using the restaurant pay to help with tuition. But everything’s spread so thin now, and… I don’t think I can even cover bills and groceries? When you divvy it up, that’s all you. You should sleep on a real bed.”

“Yeah, but Kun, you know it doesn’t work like that anymore, right? Even if it’s just for the form, we have a joint bank account now. So it’s kind of pointless to divvy things up, isn’t it?”

“Well–”

“Besides, you lost your job through no fault of your own. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“…I guess so.”

“It could have been worse. But I’m glad I earn well for both of us, yeah? We’re in this together.”

‘Together’ was such a weird concept. His head hurt trying to figure it out.

“Besides, considering we share wealth,” Johnny’s tone lost its edge, “Beds are expensive.”

Kun’s throat felt very dry all of a sudden. “Yeah.”

“More expensive than bread makers.”

“Yes.”

“And we’d both have to waste money on it, and we already have a bed that can fit both of us, so it’s kind of a waste of money.”

“That’s. True.”

Kun chanced a look over his shoulder. Johnny had his blanket up over shoulders that Kun knew were bare, his chin resting against the back of the sofa. Kun groaned and threw his door open.

“Come in.”

Johnny’s smile was odd — like an extreme version of the one he offered when Kun made him avocado toast the other weekend. “Thank you for letting me use furniture that we bought with our joint bank account money and so should, logically, belong to both of us.” 

This was such a bad idea. “It’s just for quarantine.”

Johnny bit his lip. This was _such_ a bad idea. “Of course.”

* * *

Sharing a bed with Johnny wasn’t the strangers-to-lovers romance Kun’s friends thought it was. Contrary to Ten’s belief, Kun did not wake up every morning in Johnny’s arms, or with Johnny using him as a pillow, or accidentally holding hands, or anything stupid like that. They’d used the pillows on Johnny’s bed to set up a barrier between them and used separate blankets, and both of them were pretty good at staying in their own spaces. They were both quiet sleepers and they woke up at different times as they always did, so nothing had changed apart from the fact that Kun just had a little less surface area to deal with.

If he was in any danger — and he _wasn’t_ — it was the potential for his heart to jump to his throat every time he’d see Johnny’s sleeping face tucked into his bed, sometimes half a foot away from him depending on whether he’d chosen to sleep at night or not, the little “good morning” and equally little smile when Kun had returned to his bedroom after a morning run yesterday to find that Johnny had just woken up.

But that was only hypothetical danger. Kun wasn’t in danger.

He had an action plan just in case things got out of hand, and it went like this: continue to ignore Johnny the way he always had.

Sicheng had called him out on it as soon as he shared the plan with his friends over WeChat, when Johnny was out on an afternoon walk. “I thought you said you weren’t ignoring Johnny before? You were just ‘maintaining boundaries’.”

“I was maintaining boundaries, and ignoring him was just an unfortunate side effect of that,” Kun had replied. “And now I’m taking advantage of that to... mitigate risk, if you will.”

Sicheng worked in finance, and Kun used all the finance vernacular he knew (exactly one phrase) to make himself sound smart, knowing he was being dumb.

He still felt dumb.

“I’m heading out for groceries,” Johnny said, peeking his head into Kun’s room — kind of _their_ room now. “Any last minute additions to the list?”

“No.” Kun can’t remember the last time he filled out the list, and to be honest, there was this cheesecake recipe he saw online that he wanted to try making. “Don’t think so.”

“Cool. Be back in 20.”

“‘Kay.” Johnny wasn’t around to hear Kun respond, judging from the front door slamming shut a few seconds later.

It was worth it, Kun told himself. Mitigating risk. Yeah.

(Dumbass.)

* * *

Kun left his room at the same time as Johnny left his, except Johnny had his AirPods in and was definitely in a meeting, and Kun had a higher purpose: to check if his egg tarts had cooled enough to eat. Hence why he reached the kitchen first, while Johnny was just meandering around.

His tarts had sunken perfectly. The pastry was still crisp in his foil and the egg-y centre was solid to touch. It was exactly the temperature that egg tarts should be when you eat them.

Johnny leaned over the counter and made a thumbs-up. ‘Looks good,’ he mouthed.

‘Do you want some?’ Kun mouthed back.

Johnny only opened his big mouth and Kun’s mind flashed back to a conversation he’d pretended to have in his head one night, in anticipation of an actual conversation he may have in the future — about how no matter how much Kun tried to push Johnny away, Johnny continued force his way back. Or something cheesy like that. He still needed to reword that so it sounded like something a normal human being would say.

“Are you serious,” Kun hissed, and Johnny nodded. So Kun lifted one of the egg tarts to Johnny’s mouth, one hand hovering below his chin to catch the crumbs. Johnny’s eyes flickered and rolled to the back of his head as he bit in; Kun pretended he did not see it. 

Eyes closed like he was praying, Johnny gave a chef’s kiss with his free hand, and Kun thought he was so, so stupid. Out of all the people on eHarmony that Kun could’ve chosen to marry, he’d chosen _this_ idiot. This big buffoon of a man, who made dumb expressions that created all kinds of unattractive wrinkles on his face, who overdid his praise every time Kun made the most basic baked good that Johnny could absolutely replicate himself, who made a big deal over the tiniest things like when Kun sliced a pear up and served it to him in a bowl at his desk. (“Kun, oh my god, I think you saved my life.” “It’s just a pear.” “You _cut_ it, you angel.” “I spilt pear juice on my iPad yesterday and I didn’t want that to happen to you.” “I think God sent you to earth to enlighten me.” “Shut up!”)

Kun caught himself. Exhaled the moment away.

Johnny was already walking back to his room with a plate full of tarts. It was just about the same amount that Kun would’ve offered Johnny anyway, but… come on. He could ask.

Kun bit into one of his tarts for the first time and nearly had a religious experience himself. God, they really were good.

By the time he was done cleaning up, Johnny was done with his meeting and was back in their kitchen. Getting up and stretching in a different room of the house was normal for both of them, so Kun wasn’t fazed by Johnny’s perfect form as he did lunges around the house.

“Any tarts left?”

“I thought we should save them for tomorrow.”

“Smart. They were so good, though.”

“I know! It was a good recipe.”

“It was a good chef.”

Kun’s ears felt hot. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Kun needed to get back to his thesis, but… “By the way.”

“Hm?”

“I got a job over the summer.”

Johnny froze as he reached out for his French press. “Oh?”

“Teaching Mandarin. It’s a summer program.”

“That’s good! Sounds like a lot of work, though.”

“I mean. I’m not going back to the restaurant any time soon.”

“Probably for the best, right? That was a shit job.”

Kun had never talked to Johnny about his job before. “How do you know?”

Johnny was intensely focused on spooning ground coffee into his press. “Oh, just the tone of your voice every time you said you were leaving for work. And how dead you looked when you came home after. Whenever I caught you, anyway.”

Kun took a deep breath, just to make sure he could still do it. “You’re very observant.”

“Just good memory. Need one to be a lawyer.”

“Right.” He breathed again. “Of course. Duh! I should go back... my thesis—“

“Have fun!”

“I. Will. Thank you.”

One of the first things Kun did back in his room was google ‘how to breathe better’. Google recommended him a variety of mindfulness apps to try.

He had found a new quarantine hobby.

* * *

Kun was in the middle of teaching a Zoom class when Johnny inched the door open. He could see the man’s head peek through in his camera, make the most exaggerated wince ever, a mouthed ‘sorry’, followed by the rest of his body tiptoeing comically till he was out of view. How he had managed a legal counsel role at one of New York’s best law firms, Kun didn’t know.

“One second,” Kun said to his Beyond the Terracotta Warriors (ARC2116) class, before muting his mic. Johnny placed a mug of coffee and bowl of trail mix on his desk. “Thanks. Have you had lunch?”

“All done, thanks for asking. I made extra so there’s leftovers in the fridge.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that! Thank you.”

“Any time. Text me if you need anything.”

“I will!” Kun unmuted himself as Johnny walked away. “Sorry for the interruption, everyone. My husband brought me food.” In the preview, Kun saw Johnny start at the word ‘husband’, and no doubt his students caught it too. Kun rushed on, hoping he could play it off as nothing. “Now, Mark, I see your point, but what De Jun was trying to say–”

He’d called Johnny his husband before, he thought later. It didn’t happen often but it wasn’t the first time.

Besides, they _were_ husbands. Legally. And it was better for the Green Card if everyone around them knew they were husbands, right?

Surely.

There was something different about the way Johnny carried himself the rest of the day. Kun could only liken it to a child who got an A in the class their parents thought they were going to fail. (Kun knew the feeling.) “Did you get a promotion or something?”

Johnny cocked his head. “No. Why?”

“You look really pleased with yourself.”

“Oh. Nah, just the first sunny day in the while. It’s nice. Wish we could go outside.”

“Huh, I didn’t even notice. My blinds were closed all day. But yeah, going out would be nice in general.”

“Mm. When we’re allowed to, do you think we can go for a drive or something?”

“A drive? Where?”

“Anywhere. Doesn’t have to be far.”

“Like when we went to the Niagara Falls?” 

They’d taken one trip before they got married, partly to see if they got along on a basic level, partly for evidence that they were in a relationship. It was nice. Kun had enjoyed himself. Kun had enjoyed himself a little _too_ much, and maybe he wasn’t thinking straight when he agreed to follow through with the marriage the day after.

“Maybe not that far. I was thinking more like Long Island?”

No harm in doing something like that again.

“Sure. I don’t mind.”

“Cool.” Johnny grinned easily. “Cool cool cool cool cool.”

“Stop referencing TV shows I haven’t seen.”

“Ah, but you _know_ it’s a TV show!”

“I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you in a minute!”

God.

* * *

Kun slid into the empty half of Johnny’s seat and snuggled into him, resisting the urge to shuffle in a way that made them look uncomfortable, letting Johnny’s arm rest on his shoulders. “Eomma, Appa, hello.”

“Kun! How are you?”

“I’m good.” Kun lets Johnny thread their hands together where his parents can see them. Johnny was always better at making them look like a real couple, anyway. “How are you both?”

“We’re doing great as usual. I’m always painting. Your father-in-law is always barbecuing. Nothing’s changed!”

“That’s good!”

“How is your thesis going? John says you’re always so hard at work, you barely talked to us last week!”

“Oh, you know. Semester’s almost over, so it feels like my deadline’s coming close. It’s fine though, I’m on track!”

‘On track’ is what he said to every older person he talked to about his thesis, bar his supervisor. Yixing was often the one who had to remind him that he was on track instead of vice versa, which he appreciated more than he could explain in English and Mandarin combined.

(Yixing and Johnny were both unexpected additions to Kun’s list of emotional support men.)

“Your research topic is Chinese politics, isn’t it?”

“Imperial Chinese politics,” Kun corrected, as he often had to. “My thesis is about China’s use of the Silk Road for soft power during the Imperial Period.”

“Ah. I think that’s too smart for us.”

“Kun’s kind of a genius,” Johnny nodded. A squeeze of Kun’s fingers.

“I’m not a genius,” Kun scoffed.

“You are! You should hear him talk about his thesis, Mom. He’s so intelligent.”

“It’s a wonder he married you, then!”

Johnny’s jaw set in that way it often did when his parents roasted him. But his mouth wasn’t in a pout yet, so Kun added to the fun. “He’s got a point.”

His mouth jutted out just a little. Victory.

“Eomma, I tried your kimchi pad thai recipe the other day.”

“Oh, yes, John sent me pictures! It looked even better than mine.”

“Kun is good at plating,” Johnny said, with less than the usual gusto.

“Stop. It was really delicious.”

“Of course it is, it’s my recipe. I’m glad you liked it! It’s been such a long time since I cooked something fancy.” She looked at her husband. “Maybe I should try it now that our isolation’s over.”

The arm around Kun’s shoulder went slack just as Appa Suh’s smile turned into a frown. “Bora.”

“Oh!” Eomma Suh covered her mouth. “Oh.”

“Why were you guys in isolation?” Johnny asked.

“Ah…” Kun’s in-laws were smiling again, but their brows were set firm, much like Johnny’s were when he was mid-meeting or overall stressed. “It’s all fine now, nothing to worry about. Appa had a cold, so we were a bit worried, understandably. But he tested negative, and we were isolating for two weeks, just in case.”

“A cold?”

“That’s all!” Appa Suh assured him. “Just a cold, nothing more. It’s been two weeks, I’m fine now!”

Kun felt like he was eavesdropping on what was meant to be a private conversation. But he couldn’t leave because he was family, technically.

Besides, Johnny looked like he needed something to hold on to. So he stayed.

“So you were isolating?”

“Two weeks! We just finished two days ago.”

“And now what? You’re still social distancing, right?”

“Of course!”

“So you were in isolation last week when you called? Is that why Appa wasn’t on the call?”

“I stayed in my room, love. Didn’t want to make Eomma sick.”

“And has Eomma got tested?”

“Yes! All negative.”

“How did you get groceries? Is there food in the house?”

“We stockpiled noodles last month, remember?”

“But what about meat and veggies and stuff, was that…?”

“There was a groceries delivery service. All contactless, we made sure—”

“But that’s still outside germs, Eomma. It’s coming from outside, and the delivery guy’s been going house to house.”

“We didn’t have a choice, John. We need groceries, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but—“

“John, I was fine in three days and I never lost my sense of smell or taste the entire time, and your eomma and I tested negative twice. It’s over now.”

“If you got tested twice, you’ve been to a testing facility twice—”

“Would you rather we hadn’t got tested?”

“No, but—”

“Please trust us. We’ve been as safe as possible.”

Johnny deflated like a balloon. Kun placed a hand on his knee and squeezed — off camera, so maybe pointless, but physical comfort was the best Kun could offer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t want you to worry,” Appa Suh said after a long pause. “You’re so busy with work, we didn’t want to stress you out for no reason.”

“Yeah, well, I’m stressed now!”

“Johnny,” Kun said quietly, shutting him up before his parents felt worse. “Appa, I’m so glad you’re doing better. It could have been much worse. I’m glad it wasn’t.”

“Thanks, Kun. You know we’re both health freaks in this house!”

“That I do!” Kun laughed, a little forced, but it didn’t matter because most of Kun’s laughter on these FaceTimes were forced anyway, so Johnny’s family wouldn’t know the difference. “Johnny and I should be heading off now. He’s supposed to be helping me bake a pie, I swear he just called you so he could get out of it.” Johnny didn’t laugh. Kun pushed on. “Take care of yourselves!”

“Please,” Johnny added, with none of Kun’s mirth.

“We will! You both take care of yourselves too! It seems like New York is getting worse and worse every day.”

“We’re both indoors most of the day, so we should be okay. Stay healthy! Love you.”

“Oh, Kun said he loves us! We love you, Kun!”

“Love you too, mom and dad,” Johnny said, again lacking mirth.

“Love you, Johnny. We’ll talk to you next week.”

“Yeah.”

Kun didn’t slip away as fast as he normally did after a FaceTime with the parents, choosing instead to just shift a few inches and wait to see how Johnny reacted.

Johnny just sat there, slumped and tired as he looked after a particularly long day at work. Kun didn’t know him well enough to know if he needed space or not. He’d never bothered asking either.

“Tea?” Kun asked.

Johnny nodded. “Just the bag kind is fine.”

A quick cup of green tea. Kun could do that.

When he placed a steaming hot cup in front of Johnny, who hadn’t budged since the call ended, Kun decided this wasn’t the time to slip away into his room. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Johnny lifted the cup to his face and held it there till the steam condensed on his nose. “I need time.”

“Okay.” Kun took a long sip of his lavender and chamomile. “Do you want to bake a pie, then? I wouldn’t want your parents to think I lied to them.”

A small smile. “Sure.”

Relief. “Cool. I hope you knead pastry better than you knead bread.”

* * *

Kun received a text from Eomma Suh while eating lunch on a Tuesday. ‘Is John still mad?’

As of the previous night/that morning, Kun could give her an honest answer. ‘No, not anymore!’

And then: ‘I would have done the same thing’

Five minutes later: ‘We’re so glad Johnny found you’

Kun nearly choked on his fake ramen. He wasn’t sure Eomma Suh would feel the same way after his and Johnny’s inevitable divorce.

(Not necessarily inevitable, some treacherous part of his brain thought. Kun performed a quick mental lobotomy and stepped away from his head.)

Kun replied with a heart emoji and carried on with his lunch. Damn, his fake ramen was good. Kun always knew he was a good cook, but quarantine had convinced him that he was wasting his talents in academia. He should totally just quit and open a restaurant. But maybe after the pandemic was over, though. Or maybe he could do deliveries, and get Johnny quit his job to be his delivery driver — no, that wasn’t a good long-term plan considering they intended to get divorced as soon as Kun got his Green Card, and it wouldn’t be wise for Johnny to quit his job just for him. Maybe he should look into Deliveroo or something.

“Someone’s deep in thought.”

Kun nearly fell off the barstool. He hadn’t even heard Johnny walk in. “Oh. Hi. Should I start a restaurant business?”

Johnny snorted. “Kind of a weird thought to have during a pandemic, isn’t it?” Johnny lifted the lid on the broth sitting on the stove and took a whiff. “On second thoughts…”

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I’d risk corona for this.”

“You say that about every other thing I make.”

“Because it’s true!”

“Don’t lie. Put the noodles in your bowl first, broth after. Spring onions on the cutting board, and half-assed ramen eggs are in that lunchbox over there.”

“Half-assed?”

“I only marinated it for half an hour, and there’s no Mirin, so it’s literally just soy sauce.”

“You could’ve asked me to buy Mirin.”

“The Ramen was a last minute decision. I was craving it.”

“Aw, my mom keeps asking me when we’re going to have kids.”

Kun really did choke on his noodles. “Johnny!”

Johnny offered him a pleased smile as he cut a ramen egg in half. “Don’t worry, I told her not to hold her breath. So far, she’s bought the excuse that we’re too busy, and now the pandemic, so.”

Kun swallowed as Johnny strode around the kitchen counter to sit on the other barstool; the stools had remained a foot away from each other ever since they bought them. “Your mom texted me.”

“She did?”

“Asked if you were still mad at them.”

Johnny sighed. “Oh, man.”

“Just text her. Send her a picture of your morning walk. I know you always take one.”

“You do?”

“It’s on your instagram.”

“Oh. Yeah, guess it is.”

Kun fished his chopsticks into his bowl only to find nothing solid; all he had left was soup. Kun downed the rest of his lunch in a few gulps, and his dish was rinsed, cleaned and set to dry within a minute.

“Hey,” Johnny called, forcing Kun to stop. “Thanks for all of this, by the way. My parents and, you know, listening. Last night.”

“It’s the least I can do.” And he meant it. Besides, listening was easy; all he had to do was absorb information while Johnny talked at him. At no point was Kun approached for advice, because by the time Johnny was ready to speak, he’d figured it out already.

“Still, I appreciate it. Really.”

This was the point where he was no longer capable of being earnest. “Okay. Cool. Enjoy your lunch.”

Johnny bit his lip in that way Kun had come to hate. “Will do. Okay. Cool.”

“Fuck off.”

Johnny’s laughter managed to enter and reverberate around his bedroom before he slammed the door shut.

* * *

Kun hated his friends, he really did. He liked them enough in undergrad, the only other Asian gays in his first year statistics class that just happened to be sitting next to him, two out of three of them useless at math. But now, when they were accusing him of being just as Asian gay as them but even more stupid, he hated them.

“What’s next?” Sicheng asked, “A hug?”

“Intentional hand holding,” Ten countered.

“A bro fist.”

“You come out to him.”

“He knows I’m gay already,” Kun groaned, head in hands.

“Ugh, the Asian gay dream.”

“He comes out to you.”

“He’s pan ace. God.”

“He’s ace too?”

“I didn’t know he was also ace!”

“Oh my god, Sicheng. You know what this means.”

“Kun, you knew he was perfect for you from the start.”

“Shut up!”

“He’s denying it because it’s true.”

“You literally married your ideal type. Like, in every way.”

“Remember Tao’s party in third year? He made a checklist and then said he couldn’t trust anyone to not want to have sex with him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. He checks _all_ your boxes.”

“Shut up.” Kun had admittedly forgotten about the physical check list he had drunkenly made and sent to Ten and Sicheng, but he had a vague idea what it said. “He’s not perfect,” he whispered into his mic, in case Johnny was, for whatever reason, standing outside his door listening.

“Maybe not, but I bet you find his flaws endearing.”

“Or his one fatal flaw plays perfectly to your strengths.”

“Don’t be stupid. People like that don’t exist.”

“Is he an irresponsible spender?”

Kun didn’t grace Ten with an answer.

“Wow, so that’s a yes. Are you not only extremely thrifty but also fantastic at organising struggling finances?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not a single brag? I think I’m right, Sicheng.”

“By golly, I think you’re right too.”

Kun should’ve known that that was the point, with his ears tomato red and his brain blown to bits, that Johnny would choose to walk in. “Oh, shit, sorry, didn’t realise you were in a call. I made samosas. Should I bring you some?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks. Do you have that sauce they use...?”

“Tamarind chutney? Yes, it came with the pack.”

“I’d like some of that.”

“Coming right up!”

“He forgot to tack ‘your highness’ onto the end.”

“Shut up, Ten!” Kun hissed, “He was still in the room.”

“I hope he heard me!”

“He did not.”

“He’s so hot,” Sicheng moaned. “This is so unfair. You don’t deserve him or the Green Card he’ll get you.”

“I’m scared he’ll hear you through my earphones.”

“HE’S SO HOT!” Sicheng yelled, and Kun was forced to turn the volume all the way down.

“Here,” Johnny walked through the door that Kun didn’t even realise had been left open. Shit. Johnny put the plate down on a free corner, nodded at Kun’s computer screen. “Friends?”

“Yeah. The Gaybies group chat.”

“Oh, the one with the many notifications or none at all.” Johnny leans into the camera’s view, but, as always, right on the bounds of Kun’s personal space. “Is your mic on?”

“Yes.”

“Hi! Okay, have fun.”

“Why’d you handle that like you were a presidential candidate kissing babies?”

Johnny snorted, shut the door, and Kun was alone with his friends again. The bullshit returned as soon as he unmuted his laptop.

“Kun, he’s, like, _into you_ into you.”

“He had the heart eyes.”

“He was that emoji with the floating hearts around the head.”

“His voice deepened like two octaves when he talked to you versus when he talked to us.”

“He’s always like that.”

“Yeah, because he’s spent the past month and a half holed up in an apartment with you.”

“Will you guys let this go?” Kun asked, back to a whisper. “My thesis is due in a month and I really don’t have time for this.”

“Is this about your thesis, or do you just have commitment issues?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon! You moved to America so you can be openly gay! I know we all have the same base level of culturally ingrained fear of falling in love, but damn, you’re stubborn.”

“I’m only—” Kun stumbled. “It’s not fair on him. We started off with an agreement, set boundaries. It’s not right to just change my mind.”

“But I don’t think he’ll mind, since he’s literally in love with you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Kun—”

“You don’t! If you guys don’t drop it, I’ll end this call right now.”

Ten frowned like he was very much ready to start a fight, but Sicheng cut in first. “Fine. Conversation over. Let’s start a new one.”

Kun waited, arms crossed. Ten finally looked away. “Fine.”

“Good. Sicheng! Tell me more about your new boss.”

Ten groaned. “Of all the subjects—”

“His name is Jung Jaehyun and I’m gonna fuck him,” Sicheng basically muled.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

* * *

Kun turned screw 3A into hole 1b to almost no effect. “Are you sure this is the right screw?”

“It’s what the instructions say.” Johnny winded a hex key into 1a, which Kun had just worked on before. “This one fits just fine.”

“But this one doesn’t.” Kun scanned around the carpet for the rest of the 3As, but found nothing. “Where—”

“They’re on me.”

Kun took a peek. They were on Johnny’s thigh.

He snuck a hand around the neck of the exercise bike and quickly snatched the pack away. Upon some very close, very focused inspection, he found that the 3a he was working on was much smaller than the others. “Ah, there’s our problem. I don’t think this is a 3a.”

Kun looked up to find Johnny staring at him the way he imagined he looked staring at the screws: brow furrowed, lips thin. Kun suddenly felt like he was in danger.

“Kun,” Johnny sighed, and he instantly felt like a child. “We have an arrangement, right?”

He was definitely in danger. “Yes. I haven’t forgotten about it.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay if you do, you know?”

Kun blinked. He did not know.

“I mean, if this has become about more than just getting a Green Card or keeping my parents happy, then I’m okay with it.”

There was that Tarantino movie. Kill Bill. It had the sirens. Very appropriate.

“Because it’s kind of more than just that for me. And — correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s the same for you too. But you’re holding back, and I want you to know you don’t need to.”

Well. Kun needed to use words now.

“You were never part of the plan.”

Maybe not those words.

“Not you. Anyone. I never... I expected to be alone my whole life.” Because he grew up gay in mainland China. Because he stood out even amongst his own people in Taiwan. Because he never really let himself prioritise romance to start with. He didn’t expect anything much for himself, made peace with it, moved on. How could he even say all of that out loud?

“But you make me want to... not be alone. That was stupid, let me find a better—”

Kun stilled his mouth when Johnny stilled Kun’s hands with his own, wrapping around them like a pair of flesh and bone mittens. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“You do?”

“I spent all of college believing I wasn’t good enough for anyone, so I convinced myself I wasn’t.” Johnny’s smile was far, far too warm. “You make me want something different too.” 

“Do I now.”

Johnny chucked, light and airy. “You do. Wow, first it was ‘I do’, now it’s ‘you do’, maybe we should just keep alternating–”

“Hey now, I never said I was there yet.”

“What are you afraid of?” Johnny tangled their fingers together. “I’ll eat your thesis and hack into your academia twitter and post ‘Sun Tzu is a ho’?”

“Sun Tzu isn’t even my field of study, but nice try.”

“You didn’t say no to the thesis-eating.”

Kun sucked in his cheeks.

“Are you for real?”

“Maybe not _eat_ my thesis, but the equivalent.”

“We’ve been in quarantine for weeks now. Have I ever upset your work?”

No.

“I mean, you started off the isolation period napping your afternoons away until I got you to stress bake with me. So technically, I’ve helped?”

He had, but...

“Kun.” Kun felt his head being pushed up by one powerful finger on his chin. “Will you look at me?”

It was hard, but Kun did it. He tried very hard to find the bad omens, the red flags. He fell short.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Johnny said slowly, “And I promise your work-desk won’t disappear when I do. Okay?”

“This is so patronising.”

But Kun let Johnny kiss him anyway. And they continued to kiss until they realised it was inconvenient to kiss over a half-built exercise bike, at which point they ditched the bike to kiss in Kun’s bed, the only place in the house they could comfortably sprawl out over without fear of getting pricked by small bits and pieces.

And it helped Kun think clearer. Like, what did it matter if their Green Card marriage became a real one anyway? Wouldn’t it just work to his advantage if they were actually in love? (Not that they were in love yet, but Kun could probably get there with time. Johnny was very persistent.) Johnny wouldn’t have to lie to his family, and Kun’s parents might not think he was completely crazy for getting into a shotgun wedding.

Well. Still a _little_ . Johnny was still a man, after all.

He didn’t know why he didn’t think of this earlier. It was so much easier to be authentic than play pretend. How long ago had Johnny figured it out? He was so smart.

“You’re overthinking.”

Kun inhaled sharply. “How can you always tell what’s in my head?”

“I’m a lawyer.” Johnny tucked the longer part of Kun’s fringe behind his ear. “And you’re so obvious. Just focus on the present for a while.”

And Kun listened, but only because Johnny sounded like he came straight out of Kun’s favourite mindfulness app. Let the past and the future float on by. Draw attention to your body. Your five senses. The now.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Kun let himself go.

**Author's Note:**

> Wish Kun's thesis existed irl
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/singledadjohnny)  
> [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/singledadjohnny)


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